Beauty
by Mademoiselle Eva
Summary: Katniss talks to a child of the next generation, and it brings up some unfortunate memories.  Spoilers for Mockingjay


Why do I always pick on Prim? XD Aaa, spoilers for Mockingjay. For the record, I adore Prim, she's one of my favorite characters. For another record, Talie is not going to stick around, unless people particularly like her. She's there to convey info, and basically as a plot device. She's one of those characters that has various incarnations in various places, helping stories along.

Thanks for reading, please review! I'm still testing the water with HG stories.

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><p>"Beauty runs in the Everdeen line." The careless comment causes me to snap to attention. It comes from a girl, maybe 12 or 13 years old, who'd come to the meadow of District 12 and is now sitting beside me. Her grey eyes – possibly Seam born – train on the children, <em>my<em> children, playing happily in the field before turning on me. The smile on the girls face is genuine, from the look in her eyes. "That's what Papa says, anyways."

"Does he?" I ask, wary.

"Yeah. Oh, I'm sorry, I always forget to introduce myself to new people. My name's Talie. Well, Atalia, and my last name's Rollan, but people tend to call me Talie." The girl tilts her head. "My Papa is a few years younger than you. One of them who was in District 13."

"Oh," was my eloquent answer, as I wonder what exactly I'm supposed to say. I've never been the social one, which this girl undoubtedly knows. The girl nods as if I had posed an interesting question, instead of a single syllable that isn't even a word.

"And Grandmother, she died a year or so ago – bless 'er – but she knew your Mama. Sweet lady, your Mama."

"She is," I agree, wondering why the girl was bothering to tell me all this. Was it just a thing that little girls did? My own daughter isn't as talkative, but then, she's younger. As if on cue, the girl smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry, Mama says I babble. Delly; she was in your year, she said." I nod again. It begins to make sense, if Talie is Delly's child; Delly always _was_ social, so of course her daughter would be. And the hair, her blonde hair is the same as Delly's, though the grey eyes came from elsewhere. They aren't quite the same color as those from the Seam, but then, there isn't just one shade that comes from just one place. "I came to find you, to say 'thank you'." Talie picks a daisy from the grass and begins to play with it.

" 'Thank you?' " I echo, again lost. I scan the field to try and hide my confusion – hating showing weakness even now, which is what confusion _is_ – and relaxing only fractionally when I spot my children playing some game known only to themselves.

"Yeah, but the meadow just makes me think off the past, you know, and how it affects now, and so I got off my train of thought until I was on how pretty the Everdeens are. And the Mellarks, I s'pose," she adds, almost as an afterthought, nodding at my laughing children. "But I hear more from Papa about your side." When I don't answer, she looks up from the flower in her hands. "Sometime, if you need someone to watch your babies, I can do it. I watch my little siblings, two more would be no trouble at all." I nod, in the sort of way that means you're thinking about it, but really aren't sure how much you want the person around your kids.

"What do you mean, thank me?" I press, still stuck on that fact, trying to sort everything she's saying so that I can follow it. It's not an easy task.

"Oh." The girl falls on her back, dropping the flower and reaching up as if trying to grasp the clouds. "I turned twelve today." She smiles, but it was a softer, sad sort of smile, the smile you get when you're remembering something good coming from something terrible. "Weren't for you, Mrs. Mellark-"

"Katniss," I interrupt, as if changing the name from the too-domestic Mrs. Mellark would distract from the horror of the thing the child is sharing, knowing exactly what she's talking about now.

"Ms. Katniss," the girl compromises, "I would be in the drawing."

"I see," I tell her quietly, trying to tamp down on the small part of me that wants to scream. It isn't like I didn't expect people to talk about it. People can't ignore such a big, country-changing event like that. To do so would be stupid, and probably a sign that you're not all there in the head. In fact, the girl's blunt way of facing it was almost refreshing compared to the way people tried to edge around it, ever since I snapped at people to leave me alone. Like I said, I'm not social; not like Peeta. I can't deal with people constantly asking me for accounts of the things I witnessed, trying to talk to me about something I wish I could leave behind.

Suddenly something clicks in my head, and I stare at her, my heart sinking somewhere around my stomach.

"Talie, your father's from District 13?" Talie looks as if she's been caught red handed.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And he called my family pretty." The child ducks her head and fiddles with a daisy before answering.

"…Yes, ma'am." I drop my head into my hands. He could have been talking about me, but not with who he chose to marry; a woman with blond hair, light eyes. No, the one he was referring to could only be one person.

Prim. He had to have been talking about Prim, my sweet sister, dead in the final battle between the Capitol and the rebels. Fifteen – no, almost twenty – years later, and it still hurt to think about my quiet, compassionate sister with her blond hair and baby-blue eyes. That was the pretty Everdeen girl, the one who would lead someone to the conclusion Talie's father had made, particularly when paired with my mother: "Beauty runs in the Everdeen line."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Katniss, please don't cry, oh, I'm such a bad girl, I never think before I speak…" Talie is babbling at me, her eyes wide and worried. I shake my head and try to force a smile.

"No, it's… that's all right." I look at Talie; fair, wispy hair pulled into a braid, large eyes in a pale face. She's so similar to Prim, saved by the sacrifices of others, but so very, very different. She lives in a world that Prim never knew, will never get the chance to know. A world that Prim strove to create, and died creating. "I'll be going now. Please don't worry. I may call on you for babysitting duty sometime." I stand, and Talie follows suit, expression still full of concern.

"Anytime, please, I'm so sorry if I upset you, I'll do anything, I do so hate upsetting folks."

I smile, the same little sad half-smile that she gave me earlier. "It's fine. Really." And for some… _inexplicable_ reason, it is.


End file.
